


love song

by kindaopps



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: F/F, M/M, gender bend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 06:43:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11008095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindaopps/pseuds/kindaopps
Summary: Two bodies on a single bed, a little too small for movement. The air is hot and muggy, and they haven't moved in a while. Yuuri is on her side, barely listening to Viktor talk, just watching her soft, malleable mouth curl around words, careless and wondrously delicate. The night curls around them comfortingly: a universe of their own in Viktor's shoebox room. Yuuri thinks she could write poems and make art and dance and kiss Viktor for days on end, without stopping for air, perhaps, only stopping when their lips melded together and Yuuri could no longer tell their bodies apart.





	love song

**Author's Note:**

> viktor and yuuri are both girls in this fic :-) 
> 
> wrote this for a friend's birthday hehe, i hope you guys enjoy it! 
> 
> check end notes for references

Two bodies on a single bed, a little too small for movement. The air is hot and muggy, and they haven't moved in a while. Yuuri is on her side, barely listening to Viktor talk, just watching her soft, malleable mouth curl around words, careless and wondrously delicate. The night curls around them comfortingly: a universe of their own in Viktor's shoebox room. Yuuri thinks she could write poems and make art and dance and kiss Viktor for days on end, without stopping for air, perhaps, only stopping when their lips melded together and Yuuri could no longer tell their bodies apart. 

"You didn't hear a word I just said, did you." Viktor turns, the bed creaking, her mouth a moue of resigned mock-annoyance.

"No," Yuuri admits, and her fingers reach to touch Viktor's lips, fascinated, and then she draws her hand back, horrified at herself. Viktor looks at her, her blue eyes stormy and dark in the low light of the room. Her lips part, and her tongue flicks out to lick them. Yuuri coughs and looks away, turning onto her back. The heat from Yuuri's hands bleed onto her stomach, where she'd laced them together, praying Viktor doesn't notice how her face is red. 

She feels Viktor's eyes on the side of her face, and she reluctantly turns her head and meets her gaze, unwavering and contemplative. 

"What?"

"Nothing. Did you hear that Yurio beat up some guys again? He..." 

(Sometimes love is lying across a bed that might not be yours.)

Yuuri sighs fondly and turns her head back, letting Viktor's voice wash over her (waves upon the shore), and her eyes fall shut. She dreams of sunrises and glimmers of light and Viktor's laughter, which she forgets when she wakes up in the middle of the night. Yuuri shifts; Viktor's face is closer than she expected when she turns. So close, she can feel Viktor's breath steady on her upper lip. Yuuri is hyper-aware of her own heart in her throat, like she'd chanced across something miraculous: Viktor's silver hair falling into her closed eyes, her hand hot on Yuuri's hip. Body tilted towards Yuuri's, as if she was looking at Yuuri when she fell asleep. Yuuri brushes the smooth strands, gossamer thread beneath her fingers, away. Her heart shudders with want. Viktor is all hers, in this way and this form, in the secret cavern of benevolent night. She closes her eyes and wishes morning away.

The room is dark and the only light streams in from the still-lit windows that glimmer like lights on water, too far to make out: we mortal millions live _alone_. Yuuri is lonely, and Viktor sleeps on, unaware. 

\- 

They met in school. Yuuri was on the school green with her best friend, Phichit, laughing at his antics as he gesticulates wildly, throwing her head back and letting the sun touch her face. She inhales the grassy, vaguely sweet scent of spring, and looks at the tiny yellow flowers and field daisies that dot the expanse of grass, which makes her smile. 

"Oh look, it's Viktor," Phichit says, his voice curling around the word _Viktor_ , heavy with insinuation and teasing. 

Yuuri turns, and meets the gaze of one Viktor Nikiforov, who is strolling with purpose towards them, her long, sliver hair flying behind her, fae-like and unreal in a sunny day. There had been poems dedicated to that silver hair in the school confessional, and sometimes, even the school publication, as if to V was subtle. Everyone knows who Viktor Nikiforov is: genius artist, drama queen, prettiest girl in school with her silver hair and bright blue eyes. 

"Is it me or is she coming over here?" Yuuri asks Phichit, who shrugs and pops a chocolate in his mouth. 

"She might," he says slyly, wiggling his eyebrows, and Yuuri rolls her eyes and slaps his arm. 

"Come on, why would she-" 

"Yuuri Katsuki," Viktor pronounces, and Yuuri blinks rapidly up at her. She chances a look at Phichit, who just grins at her, discretely taking his phone out. Yuuri blushes, and then coughs awkwardly. 

"Hi?" 

Suddenly, both her hands are clasped between Viktor's own, and her famous blue eyes are very, very close to Yuuri's face. She smells like paint and something musky-sweet. Yuuri feels her face burning up, and she can feel Phichit's silent, gleeful shock.

"Please, will you partner me for my project?"

"What - why?" 

Viktor brandishes their school's literary publication at her, flips to a page, and waves it in her face. Yuuri recognises it, she thinks. It's the one she wrote after reading _The Bell Jar_ , so full of anguish and fear and despair that was not entirely her own. "Your piece. I think I want to do my project based on it."

"My piece - wait, who told you I wrote it?" Yuuri demands, her face suffusing with more red, and she glares at Phichit, who raises his hand in negation. "That was -" 

"Beautiful," Viktor says, eyes shining iridescent and ethereal, and Yuuri feels a shock of despair: _God, why must she do this to me?_ "Please be my partner." 

Yuuri stares at her, and she stares back, imploring, and then Yuuri looks away, feeling completely out of depth. 

"You want...me?" Yuuri says, and Viktor nods. "But I'm...normal," she says weakly, and Phichit had turned his face away and is laughing into his arm. Yuuri hates her best friend. She thinks she's going to hack into his Instagram account and lock it so he won't be able to use it. She thinks she might steal his hamsters and never return them to him. She thinks she might ask Seung-gil out for lunch one day, just to spite him.

"You're extraordinary," Viktor tells her, and Yuuri has never felt her face burn this way before. She thinks she might be bright, lobster red. Not a flattering shade, at any rate. "How about I tell you what I'm planning to do first? Please don't say no."

Yuuri stammers out a reply, her mind short-circuiting, and Viktor looks confused. Phichit wipes tears from his eyes, a shit-eating grin on his face. He pats Viktor's shoulder.

"I think you broke her, Nikiforov." 

That had been last summer.

Now, Yuuri and Viktor are inseparable. Sometimes Yuuri thinks it might be better if they hadn't become friends, when her heart falls apart with ache and want that she would never dare to verbalise. Sometimes she curses the fact that she'd agreed to be Viktor's partner and that she'd let Viktor drag her along at her pace. Sometimes she despairs, when she watches Viktor laugh and talk and draw, knowing that she out of reach, forever a distant star that Yuuri cannot hold in her hands. So Yuuri stows her love for this girl somewhere between the shadow and the soul. She thinks _I love you_ when Viktor is putting food into her mouth and trying to talk at the same time. She thinks _I love you_ when Viktor talks about her family back in St Petersburg, her mouth small and tight like a flower afraid of the dark. She thinks _I love you_ when the both of them are laying sprawled on Viktor's bed, drunk as hell and curled up together, Yuuri dazedly watching Viktor fall asleep when her head pillowed on Yuuri's shoulder and chest. 

She ties her heart carefully around those threatening, frightening words and buries them under fleeting touches and restrained smiles. The tides of her affection recede and crash, push and pull, constant, turbulent; Yuuri is forever suspended between land and shore. _Do I dare, do I dare?_

\- 

"Have you told her yet?" 

"No." 

"Yuuri. It's been months." 

"I know. But it's fine." 

"Sure." 

"You haven't told Seung-gil either." 

"I am working up to it." 

"So am I." 

Phichit sighs, and he swings an arm over her shoulders. He gives her a sardonic smile, a little sad. "We're both hopeless, aren't we?" 

\- 

A game, love's the dealer. Two bodies, one soul. Words unsaid, decoded, dissected, vivisected: a patient etherised on a table. 

A scorecard: love to twenty-seven.  
\- 

"Why is your face so red?" 

Yuuri coughs wildly and lifts the book to cover her face, and ignores the question. "What do you want to eat?" She asks, trying not to peek at Viktor, who tosses her head back and shrugs. Her sliver hair brushes against her cheek, and Yuuri can see, now, the clean, unassuming, perfect arch of her neck. Her mouth fills with saliva, thinking of how the oceans of blood under Viktor's skin would rupture from the violent sweep of her tongue and teeth, bloom into bright red and violets that say mine.

"Anything. I'm good, really." 

"Your hair," Yuuri blurts out, and then feels her face flush more. Viktor touches the strands, and grins at Yuuri, the smile charming, teasing and knowing at once.

"Do you like it?" 

"It's...short." 

Viktor tugs a hand through the cropped hair and shrugs. "I felt like it." 

"Of course, you'd look good with short hair also," Yuuri murmurs under her breath, nonplussed and upset and flustered all at once. She would miss Viktor's long hair that fell to her waist, but this new hairstyle makes Viktor look sharper, handsome, carefree.

"What?" Viktor's smile is amused, as if she knew what Yuuri just said. 

Yuuri coughs, and then spends the rest of the dinner sneaking peeks at Viktor, looking away and flushing hard when Viktor catches her staring. 

(Who is still keeping score? Yuuri already lost.)

\- 

Viktor likes to touch people. Yurio hates it, snarling like a cat when she engulfs him in a hug everytime she catches him on the campus. Sometimes Yuuri thinks she does it to annoy Yurio, judging by her pleased, smug smile as Yurio yells at her. She would touch Yuuri's back lightly and leave a soft, tingling mark where her heat was. She would lace Yuuri's fingers with hers when lie side by side on her single bed, her long, thin, elegant artist fingers entwined with Yuuri's own, stubby, thicker ones. Yuuri entertains herself and thinks that they look good together. _What do you mean?_ Yuuri thinks, as she looks at their hands, a beating heat caught at the edge of silence and speech, between them, a no-man's land, as Viktor rambles on. 

There is no moon tonight. The air is humid with the passing of the summer rain. Viktor talks something about the flowers and the rain. Yuuri thinks: _the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses, and nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands._

She holds on tight, wishing for meaning that might linger between their enclosed hands. 

\- 

"Why are you painting my nails? They're so - ugly." 

"Because you bite them all the time," Viktor retorts, even as she holds Yuuri's fingers in her hand, and painstakingly applies a layer of maroon on her nail, "how lesbian can you get?" 

"Rude! It's as if your nails are the paragon of perfection."

"I'm an artist. Of course my nails aren't great." 

"Oh, it's not because you're a flaming homosexual?" 

"They're not mutually exclusive, you know." 

Yuuri rolls her eyes, shifting a little, a little amused. 

"Hold still," Viktor insists, and Yuuri sighs but lets her, holding her text with her other hand and trying to focus, but her eyes are drawn to Viktor's starlight head bent over her hand. Distracted by Viktor's warm fingers holding hers, and the slightly cool polish on her nail. 

"Done," Viktor announces, 30 minutes later, when Yuuri had given up pretense of reading and was staring at Viktor. Yuuri pulls her hands back and considers them, the dark maroon on her stubby, bitten-to-the-quick nails. 

"They look - fine." 

"Just fine?" 

Yuuri shrugs. "It's not like a coat of paint can save these," she says, wriggling her fingers. 

Viktor huffs, but then laces their fingers together, holding their clasped hands in front of Yuuri and turning them back and forth. 

"Two sides of the same coin now, see?" 

Yuuri follows the movement of their hands: her nails maroon, Viktor's a navy blue. Both jagged, ink-splattered. "Heads or tails?" Yuuri asks, and smiles at Viktor. 

-

"Did you change your pen-name?" 

Yuuri coughs. "I might have." 

"Why?" 

"People were finding out." 

"Mm." 

"..." 

"What's your new one?" 

"I'm not telling you." 

"Why?" 

_Because some of the things are write are for you. About you. You'd be able to see my affection, naked and bared to the world. An old wound, ripped open anew, bleeding and ugly.. I don't want you to see that. How my heart is already yours, if you'd ask for it._

Yuuri shrugs.

\- 

"Have you ever written anything about me?" 

"Yes," Yuuri says solemnly. "I write the confessionals telling everyone what a lazy slob you are. And how much you eat. And how you whine."

Viktor rolls her eyes and flicks Yuuri's forehead, but she is smiling, amused and happy. Her shirt is slipping over her collarbones, and her short hair is ruffled and sticking out at random directions. She is soft, careless in the late-afternoon sun. Half of her face and her thigh are lit a tawny-amber. Her svelte body is blurry at the edges, so like the water colours she likes to paint. Sometimes Yuuri cannot tell the difference between Viktor and the world. She aches. Wants the world in her arms.

"I meant the poetry." 

"Ah," Yuuri says, and she picks at a broken nail. "Maybe." 

"Maybe?" Viktor echoes, "how is it maybe? Either you did or did not."

"Why are you asking?" 

"Because," Viktor tells her, her eyes otherworldly, handing Yuuri a sketchbook. Unashamed and bold. "I have drawn you." 

Yuuri flips through the pages. Feels her throat constrict, and her heart gallop with something like hope in her chest. She sees herself, smiling in the sunlight, flowers around her. Her, pensive, worrying her lip. A look of disbelieving wonder. Yearning. Her fingers, outstretched, her eyes intent on something. Yuuri is breathless, and she forces her tongue to speak, holding the sketchbook against her chest.

"What is this?" 

"I thought you already knew," Viktor tells her, and she smiles, taking Yuuri's hand and raising it to her lips. "You are my muse." 

\- 

They are sitting on swings, and Viktor had been strangely quiet, even if she was the one who asked Yuuri to come out with her. Yuuri is fine with the silence: Viktor will talk to her when she is ready. So Yuuri swings on her swing, humming the song Viktor always hums, lifting her head to the sky and watching the stars gleam in the cloak of inky blackness. She wonders if the stars look upon the earth like humans look at them. If the stars had ever loved a mortal so much they would fall for them. 

"Yuuri." 

"Mm?" 

"Do you like me?" 

Yuuri chokes. Her mind is racing, screaming fight or flight, and she is sure she is staring at Viktor, her hands breaking out in sweat. She thinks: _like you? I think I very possibly might love you like the sun loves the moon even if they never meet and I love your stupid stubbornness and your recklessness and your brilliant smile and your loudness and your sadness and the blisters on your feet and the fact that you love mornings and I want to kiss you like how the sky kisses the earth with rain and light and -_

"I - what - um - I - don't - ah - I do," Yuuri says, helpless in the face of Viktor's bright blue eyes and grave solemnity. Yuuri looks down at her feet, chewing on her lip intently. "But it's fine," desperateness bleeding into her voice, "I know -"

"I like you too."

"- so we can just - wait, what?" 

"I like you too, Yuuri," Viktor tells her, her mouth curling into that gorgeous heart-shaped smile, and she stands from her swing to stand in front of Yuuri. "Date me." 

Yuuri's voice is stolen from her, and she stares and stares, until Viktor bends and presses her hand onto Yuuri's cheek, concerned, her face a lot closer than Yuuri expected. Her hand burns where it touches Yuuri's skin, and Yuuri thinks her heart might burst, the way it is racing against her chest. 

"Yuuri?" 

"Yes," Yuuri whispers, "yes, yes." Viktor's mouth twitches into another smile, shadowed by the lamp that flickers beside the swings. "If you'll have me."

"Of course," Viktor laughs, and she throws her arms around Yuuri, her hair tickling Yuuri's cheek, sweet and miraculous, and Yuuri rests her hands on Viktor's back and feels her own mouth spread into a smile. She laughs too, and feels giddy, disbelieving, and her fingers clutch Viktor's shirt tighter. The world bursts into flames; they are the only two people standing.

\- 

Nothing changes, for the most part. Viktor is still the same, forgetful and ditzy and sharp, paradoxes in a person. She still teases Yuuri and demands and falls asleep everywhere and Yuuri still blushes and relents and sighs when she plucks grass out of Viktor's hair after she'd fell asleep in the sun. Except now Yuuri can hold Viktor's hand without the aching thoughts. She can kiss her egg-shell eyelids because she is _allowed_. She can touch Viktor's smiling mouth all she wants and stroke her cheekbones. She can press her mouth against Viktor's neck, against her pulse point and inhale her musky scent. She can press her face between the sweet, soft valley of Viktor's breasts and feel her heart beat and reach between her legs and hear her cries and moans. She can see her hair plastered to her face, mouth open and panting, a red, swollen mess from Yuuri's ministrations, nibble at her hipbones pressing out of her skin, and kiss her soft belly. Touch the endless expanse of Viktor's creamy skin. The weight of her breast in her hand. Her heat, wrapping around her fingers, wet and slick. 

"I love you," Yuui murmurs into Viktor's hipbone, and Viktor's hips rise off the bed as she whines in her throat. "I love you." 

It doesn't matter that Viktor doesn't hear, Yuuri thinks, and she pushes up to kiss Viktor desperately, feeling Viktor's hands side into her hair and pull her closer. 

"I love you too," Viktor says into her mouth, and Yuuri swallows the words and fire spreads through her body. She shudders, and squeezes her eyes shut, and savours those words that are breath, yet solid, sinking under her skin: who knew love could be so unbearable? In moans, slick, and mess, Yuuri thinks that she could've made an altar out of Viktor's curves, and she, herself, a devotee to sweat and skin.

-

Yuuri lifts her head and watches as Viktor enters the cafe, her mouth breaking into a smile, and she waves, bending her head again to focus on the work in front of her. When she doesn't hear Viktor in the next few moments, Yuuri lifts her head again and scans the area, catching the gleam of Viktor's sliver hair in a corner. A man - probably around their age - is standing too close to Viktor, preventing her from coming to Yuuri. Yuuri purses her lip, and watches, sure Viktor could handle herself. She sees the polite but distant smile, the closed off body language. Feels the annoyance when the man bends in closer, and then when he lays a hand on Viktor's arm, she stands, chair scraping the floor, and stalks over. 

"Hey," Yuuri says, pleasantly bland smile fixed on her face, slipping her hand around Viktor's waist, who looks surprised, before a smile tugs her lips. She leans into Yuuri's touch. Yuuri, is, however, too annoyed to let it warm her. The man looks at her, uninterested, but smiles anyway. 

"Hi. Are you Viktor's friend?" 

"I'm her _girlfriend_."

"Right," the man says, unbothered, turning to Viktor with another smile, "so, are you -" 

"She's mine," Yuuri tells him, pulling Viktor closer, scowling fiercely, "so you can back off." 

The man raises an eyebrow, and laughs, amused, "what, you're both lesbians?" 

"Yes," Viktor tells him happily, and she turns her face to kiss the corner of Yuuri's mouth. "Very lesbian." 

He recovers, and, murmuring under his breath, leaves, after shooting Yuuri a dirty look. Yuuri huffs, the annoyance lingering and making her upset, reluctantly letting Viktor draw her into a small, segregated part of the cafe. 

"Babe," Viktor says, before she attacks her mouth, kissing her dazed and silly, the irritation draining away in the assurance of Viktor's kiss. 

"I love it when you get jealous," Viktor laughs, and Yuuri clutches at her arms and lets her eyes flutter shut, breathless. 

"You are mine, though." 

"I know. Don't be upset." 

Yuuri leans up and makes a vicious mark on Viktor's throat, visible, and Viktor sighs amusedly, but makes one right back on Yuuri. They exited, hands laced tight together.

\- 

Viktor is curled up on Yuuri's lap, her hair splayed and ticklish on Yuuri's thighs, a warm, breathing, solid weight that brings the sense of peaceful rightness. The sun is gentle and patches of the light fall onto Viktor's face, and Yuuri catalogues the way the pinpricks of light shiver and move when the leaves ruffle with the wind. She chases the light, the shadows, counts Viktor's eyelashes on her cheek and her faint freckles; feels her heart tremble with the overwhelming warmth that courses through her veins. Yuuri is light with love, like dust that glimmers and dances in the sun, uncaring, unencumbered.

Viktor stirs, just a minute movement, and Yuuri is greeted with clear, sun-struck eyes, a sleepy contended smile playing on plush lips, spelling love in a language privy only to Yuuri. 

"Hey." 

"Hello," Viktor replies, her eyes falling shut, nuzzling further into Yuuri's lap. There is a patch of light on the corner of her mouth that Yuuri bends to kiss.

"You're my sun," Yuuri tells her, as she pulls back, Viktori's eyes on hers, her mouth tingling, "my moon, and all my stars." 

Viktor laughs, and leans up to kiss her; light fell gently, mid-morning stars on two entwined bodies.

\- 

Viktor is drawing on Yuuri's thighs, where she is propped against them, and Yuuri tries to sit still and not squirm. 

"Stop moving." 

"It tickles." 

Viktor huffs, and her hand reaches to press down on Yuuri's thighs. 

"Why are you drawing on me anyway?" Yuuri complains, looking at Viktor draw lines on her skin, the black marker swirling, stark against the white of her skin. "And why am I letting you?" 

"Because you love me," Viktor says smugly, and Yuuri sighs, her mouth twitching. 

"God help me." 

"It'll look nice," Viktor tells her, finishing the last strokes, and she sits up. Yuuri chuckles when she sees marker ink staining her forehead and nose. She reaches up and rubs them away, dropping a kiss between Viktor's eyes, smiling as Viktor scrunches her nose up. 

"Look," she demands, and Yuuri looks down at her thighs: solid, swirling lines of flowers, dark chrysanthemums and sunflowers and tulips. 

"It's beautiful." Her hands touch the drying ink cautiously, and she looks up at Viktor. "What's this?" 

"Chrysanthemums mean joy, fidelity and optimism," Viktor tells her, "sunflowers mean adoration and dedication, and tulips are a declaration of love." 

Yuuri hums and nods, tucking her hair behind her ear, feeling a little nervous. "What are you saying, Viktor?" 

Viktor takes her hands between her own and kisses her knuckles, drawing them against her chest. Her eyes are a dark, stormy blue: enclosed poems, oceans, galaxies.

"Let's go to Las Vegas. These are my promises to you. I hope you like the flowers. I could buy some for you, but I thought drawing them might be better. They die too fast. Marker lasts longer. Your skin is my canvas and you are my muse. I want to draw you all the time. For you. I love you. Marry me. I don't have enough money for proper rings now, but we can get temporary ones first. Marry me anyway." 

Yuuri stares, and she feels her eyes well with tears, and Viktor rubs the wetness away from her cheek.

"Yuuri?" She says, worried, "do you not want to? I mean - I can wait -"

Yuuri shakes her head vehemently and she raises her hand to rub at her eyes impatiently. "I'm sorry," she whispers, and gives Viktor a watery smile. "I'm just being stupid. Give me the marker." 

Yuuri draws a wobbly ring on Viktor's fourth finger; she is no artist, but Yuuri thinks Viktor won't mind. Viktor takes her hand back, her eyes tracing the crude rendition of a ring on her finger. "Yes," Yuuri tells her, "a thousand times, yes." 

Viktor lights up. She takes Yuuri's hand and draws her a brand new garden and a house by the seaside and of course, an elaborate ring. 

Yuuri feels her skin stain with love and joy and dreams of _forever_. 

\- 

"Babe." 

"..." 

"Babe, wake up." 

Yuuri groans, turning the covers higher and away from Viktor. Viktor runs her hand through Yuuri's hair, tugging the blanket away and kissing Yuuri's forehead. "Come on, darling." 

"The sun isn't out yet," Yuuri mumbles, her voice raspy and hoarse, and Viktor sighs, a little amusedly and resignedly, and bundles her up into her blanket, carrying her into the car and setting her in the passenger seat, Yuuri half-awake and letting Viktor maneuver her. 

When Yuuri wakes up again, Viktor is carrying her out of the car into the chilly cold, and Yuuri huffs and burrows into Viktor's warmth. 

"Cold," she grumbles, and Viktor laughs and puts her down in the open boot, where they are facing the expanse of the unfolding sea before them, the sky a dim, inky blue, the world quiet but not silent, as if holding in a breath. Viktor reaches into her bag and pours Yuuri a cup of tea. Yuuri accepts it, feeling the calming scent wake her, and she moves closer to huddle beside Viktor. 

Slowly the sky brightens, dawn taking her first breath in wisps of pink. The waves whisper mermaid songs, the lovely notes travelling shore to shore. Viktor is humming under her breath, her hand laced with Yuuri's own. The air is crisp and cold, and the fabric of the sky is entwined with orange and yellow and pink, gentle and joyful, sighing as the new day awakens. Yuuri watches the light break over Viktor's face, bright, beloved, as Viktor watches the world embrace the sun. 

"Isn't it beautiful?" Viktor turns to Yuuri, relaxed and smiling, her hair a halo around her face: a flower opening its petals in sunlight.

Yuuri smiles back. Touches her very own sun. "It is." 

(finally, the slick mountains of love break over us.)

**Author's Note:**

> have been reading all the poetry i want to after my exams (!!! no more shakespeare thank u) ended so these are the literary references:
> 
> e.e cummings "somewhere i have never travelled gladly beyond"  
> "(i do not know what it is about you that closes/ and opens;only something in me understands/ the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)/ nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands"
> 
> e.e cummings " silently if, out of not knowable"  
> "yours is the light by which my spirit’s born:/ yours is the darkness of my soul’s return/–you are my sun,my moon,and all my stars"
> 
> mary oliver "her grave"  
> "finally/ the slick mountains of love break/ over us."
> 
> matthew arnold "to marguerite: continued"  
> "yes! in the sea enisled,/ with echoing straits between us thrown/ dotting the shore less watery wild,/ we mortal millions live alone." and  
> "the nightingales divinely sing;/ and lovely notes, from shore to shore,/ across the sounds and channels pour-"
> 
> matthew dickman "love"  
> "love in an elevator./ love in the backseat of your parent’s chevette./ love going to college, cutting her hair, reading plath and sleeping/ with other girls./ sometimes love is lying across the bed/ but it might not be yours." 
> 
> pablo neruda "sonnet xvii"  
> "i love you as certain dark things are to be loved/ in secret, between the shadow and the soul."
> 
> t.s eliot "the love song of j. alfred prufrock."  
> "and indeed there will be time/ to wonder, 'do i dare?' and, 'do i dare?'" and  
> "let us go then, you and i,/ when the evening is spread out against the sky/ like a patient etherized upon a table"
> 
> p.s. mary oliver and e.e cummings have been my obsessions lately (obviously) DO CHECK THEM OUT THEIR POETRY IS SO GORGEOUS T.T
> 
> p.p.s if you'll like to come say hi: https://paniconice.tumblr.com/
> 
> have a nice day ahead!!!


End file.
